


Saint Valencia Day

by YouLookGoodInLeather



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Azriel didn't do his homework, Comedy, Dawn Court, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, Orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:50:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather
Summary: Driven from the Night Court, the Day Court, and not welcome in the Dawn Court, the Inner Circle find themselves forced to take refuge with the Children of the Blessed at a temple in Dawn. There they discover they were welcomed for a reason.*A tale in which the Children of the Blessed ship the members of the Night Court, Azriel forgets to warn people about sacred orgies, and Elain discovers the majesty of the Firedick.





	Saint Valencia Day

**Author's Note:**

> When you can't write threesomes because it's too difficult, write orgies #GoodAdvice

Nestled in between the snow-capped mountains of the dawn court, the Children of the Blessed inhabited and kept a temple, as sanctuary for all humans dwelling within Prythian. Of course, whilst it served as a shelter for stray mortals, its primary purpose was to serve and worship the High Fae. 

Since the beginning of time - or at least, as far back as anyone ever bothered documenting the events that occurred in its passing - the Dawn Court had always been the most spiritual. Every aspect of its culture, traditions, and practices revolved around respecting and honouring the will of The Cauldron, The Mother, and several other saints and lesser deities that were unique to the Dawn Court. Since the war and the freeing of the human slaves, a Patron Saint of humanity had become a key icon, and it was from this small cult that the Children of the Blessed had been accepted, cultivated, and housed. 

And it was there, within the grand, alabaster temple walls, that Feyre now found herself. 

After the Night Court had fallen, plagued by endless siege and assaults by Hybern, she and her court had fled south. Day had banished them, after Feyre and Amren once again played at being thieves and stole their most sacred, ancient tomes on the lore of the Cauldron and Curses. Dawn had wanted nothing to do with them, but had allowed them to pass. Only the humans, infatuated with all High Fae,  _ especially  _ celebrities such as the High Lord of Night himself, had offered them a place to rest and recuperate. 

All they had to do now was not piss off their new, and final, hosts. 

“Oh, High  _ Lord  _ Rhysand,” Mother Meredith, one of the ruling matrons of the institution crooned as she welcomed them into the grand hall to dine, once they had all been settled into their quarters. “It is such an honour to meet you in the flesh. Please, come, sit. We have prepared a table for you especially.”

The hall was magnificent, a huge open space crowded with long wooden tables for feasts, and dotted with broad pillars to support the high ceiling. High-set windows poured in the amber light of the setting sun, but most impressive of all was the miniature sun that hovered at the top of the dome ceiling, casting light upon the scene to make it as bright and warm as a summer day.  “A gift from Dawn,” she explained, when she caught Feyre staring. “A gift from the Gods.”

They took their seats at the middle bench, in the middle of the hall. Dozens upon dozens of women, both young and old, had flooded to come sneak a peek at their visitors. Most had the good sense to pretend to be occupied, sitting around at the tables, eating or reading or chatting. A few skulked around the walls - mostly the younger ones, not yet in adulthood, skittering from shadow to shadow and giggling amongst themselves. Feyre remembered how ridiculous they had seemed to her before. Now they were oddly… endearing. 

But perhaps that had everything to do with the fact that they were providing her with free food. She and the rest of the inner circle said their thanks and then broke into shoveling as much food down as fast as possible, ravenous from a month of flying and riding and winnowing without any consistent food supply. It wasn’t fae food, and yet Feyre could have sworn nothing had ever tasted so delicious.

Thankfully, despite Hybern’s efforts thus far, none of her companions had been left behind. Elain and Nesta had come with them, now High Fae and Illyrian respectively. Lucien, freed from the Spring Court alongside her accompanied them as well. Mor, Az, Cass, Amren, Rhys; they all looked a little skinny, but they all were alive and breathing. She intended to keep it that way.

“They are so mates,” a not so well hushed voice hissed from beside Feyre. Now that the shock had worn off, the Children of the Blessed around her had begun whispering amongst themselves, though they seemed rather poorly skilled in the art of doing so quietly. 

“No, no, no, I think the two Illyrian boys would make a way cuter couple,” someone else squealed from behind them, so loudly that Cass and Azriel exchanged a look and laughed. 

Leaning over to his brother in arms, Cass swung an arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair, before pecking him briskly on the cheek. A small squeak resounded throughout the hall. “Gotta give our hosts a show, right?” Cass said with a shrug and a grin, earning him an eyeroll from Nesta. 

“Oh my god  _ shut up _ . Didn’t you read the latest  _ Night Light _ gossip column? Everyone knows Cassian and Nesta are going to get together.” It was Nesta’s turn to blush and look a little meeker.

“Carline, you are such an idiot. Nesta is obviously gay for Mor,” A girl, sitting right next to Nesta, snapped at her friend. She promptly sighed, half-collapsing upon the table. With no shame whatsoever, she looked over at the Morrigan. “I mean,  _ who isn’t _ ?”

“...Guys.” Lucien was only really just getting used to the group dynamic, and this utterly bizarre, surreal occurrence wasn’t really helping him feel comfortable. “What’s going on?”

“Fuck me that boy is foxy,” a woman who had to be well into her sixties said to her walking companion as she passed the table, and to everyone’s utter disbelief, she pinched Lucien’s ass on the way past. “I’ll sacrifice myself to you any day, Firedick, if you know what I mean!” She hooted back at him, cackling when her friend whacked her on the arm. Lucien had turned the colour of his Court. 

“I never knew these people were so rude,” Elain snipped curtly, doing an awful job of not looking jealous as she pouted and scowled. 

“They’re not normally,” Mor muttered, looking around for some sort of explanation, whilst looking rather amused. Her lack of displeasure probably had something to do with the fact that a whole table of girls were turned and swooning over her. “I wonder what’s gotten into them.”

“Ah, Lord Rhysand,” a familiar, hesitant voice said. They turned from studying the tittering Children to regard Mother Meredith, who had returned with her hands clasped before her, head bowed. “I-I’m afraid I forgot to warn you. When the girls heard you were all coming here, on this day… they were rather expecting something of a  _ show _ .”

“A show?” Rhys repeated, exchanging a glance with Feyre, who just shrugged. She had no idea as well. “What sort of show?”

“Well, you know. It is the day of Patron Saint Valencia.” Meredith was positively crimson by now. “And as is tradition for the High Fae and humans… we assumed we’d be allowed to watch.” 

“Oh,” Azriel said suddenly. He’d gone quite white, eyes wide and lips parted, so it would have been comical had he not looked quite so pained. “Oh. Oh, Cauldron boil me.” He mashed his face into his hands and groaned loudly. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Forgot what, Az?” Rhys said, so calmly that Azriel froze. Too calm. Definitely masking some kind of potential death threat. 

“It’s one of the Dawn Court’s most ancient traditions,” he explained through the cracks between his fingers, sounding as if someone were slowly driving a rusty dagger into his abdomen. “On the day of Patron Saint Valencia, the patron saint of sexual energy, the nobility of the High Fae gather in temples and… well…”

“Fuck?” Cassian supplied with a helpful smile, which only widened with a laugh when Nesta cuffed him over the ear in response. 

“Yes. That. Generally all together… publically…”

“It’s a very important ritual,” Mother Meredith said with great sincerity. “It’s a vital part of blessing the temples with prosperity and magical energy. We were originally going to be hosting the Dawn Court here for the celebration, but we thought, it would be such an honour to meet the Most Power High Lord himself, and Feyre, The Cursebreaker.” She gave a smile that was the sort you’d see on hopeful little girls selling flowers in the streets of Feyre’s old village, praying for the chance that they might be able to afford to eat. “We have heard so very much about you.”

“Can’t you get the Dawn Court to come here now? I’m sure they’d do a better job,” Lucien asked, though judging by his desperate tone he already knew the answer.  

“No. No, it’s at least three days ride from here to the palace. We turned them away especially for you.” 

“Of course you did,” Rhys said softly.  His gaze was fixed on Azriel, who looked like he wished the earth would swallow him up sooner rather than later. “Of course you did.”

Silence fell across the table, across the entire hall, as all the Children of the Blessed looked on and listened in eager anticipation. Feyre’s mind raced to come up with some excuse, some alternative. They couldn’t leave - they had nowhere to go, and Elain especially was on the verge of breaking from so much travelling. Not to mention neither of the other courts near them were friendly. 

She was just about to suggest they try and brave the wilds when Cassian started taking his shirt off. “What the hell are you doing?” Nesta barked, whacking him to try and get him to stop at once.

“Getting naked, obviously. Honestly sweetheart, I thought you were the bright one.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Course I am,” he said with a grin, looking at them all. Sighing, he removed his shirt and leaned forwards upon the table. “Look gang, first off, we need a place to rest, and I want some damn food that isn’t berries and measly rabbit. Secondly…” he smirked, “don’t we deserve a little bit of fun?”

“I haven’t had a good orgy in a long time,” Mor mused, causing Elain to whimper. “Oh, I forgot. Humans don’t tend to think kindly of such things, do they?”

“No, they most certainly do not,” Nesta said stiffly, watching the woman opposite her with what Feyre thought might actually be admiration. 

“You’re one of us now, sweetheart,” Cass stood up and stripped off his trousers, then his undergarments, and stood before them shameless in his nudity. Several of the women beside him sort of… melted. “Come get acquainted with the culture.”

Looking over at Rhys, Feyre wasn’t sure how to react for a moment. Her heart was racing, her stomach in a flurry, but all she needed was one subtle, impish smile from her mate and she knew her decision. “Let’s make some magic people,” she declared with a truly Cassian-worthy grin. “Cauldron knows we could use with a little blessing.” 

She and Rhys stripped other another bare. They’d barely had time to be intimate with all the fleeing of the past month, and she couldn’t help but relish in the warm caress of his hands. Then she realised she didn’t need to try and stop it; the more she gave over to reckless abandon, the more she was participating in the ceremony. Now  _ this _ was the kind of fae tradition she could get into. 

As they’d undressed, the tables had been pulled away around them, creating a cosy clearing beneath the beating warmth of the artificial sun. It’s light and heat baked the smooth stones underfoot, leaving them pleasant to rest upon with bare skin, and oddly soft, so well shined and polished that they felt almost like fine fur. She indulged in picturing herself getting fucked right there. And better yet; it was all about to come true. 

Around them, they others were joining in with varying degrees of caution. Lucien had kept a very purposeful distance between himself and Elain, removing his attire as she awkwardly stepped out of hers. She blushed and mumbled to herself, until Nesta leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She paused. Straightened. Looked right at Lucien. And then she pounced. 

She was the first to initiate the intimacy, dragging him into her and pulling him down into a heavy, heated kiss. He was still half in his breeches, and she tugged them clean off of him, her hand reaching and grasping for his dick.  _ There _ was the sister Feyre had heard banish the mortal queens to hell. 

“M’lady,” Cassian said, extending a hand to Nesta now that it had become clear she was a willing participant. She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Fat chance, bat boy,” she said with a snort. Her fingers found Mor’s, and she pulled the warrior queen towards her. She gave Cassian a cheeky wink. “You’ll have to wait your turn.”

At first, they all paired up, Azriel slipping over to comfort and kiss the rejected Cassian in a close, familiar manner that spoke of the many times they’d touched intimately before. Elain was on fire, pushing Lucien down onto the stone flooring and straddling him, moving with such desperate urgency that he could barely keep up. It seemed the mating bond really did go both ways. 

They kissed and moaned and fucked together upon the flooring, Mor pinning Nesta to a pillar, yet Feyre felt it was all so _ limiting _ . Arousal coloured all her thoughts as she looked around at them all, her court, her beautiful, wonderful court. She wanted them all.

“You feel it too?” Rhys whispered to her, as he shivered through his orgasm, coming a moment after her. “It’s the temples. They’re soaked in this breed of magic.”

“You mean it really is a thing? The sexual energy and all that?”

“You tell me,” Rhys countered with a cocky smirk, running a thumb up her clit, setting her whimpering once more. “Does this feel like just any night to you?”

Looking around in a daze, she fixated on each and every one of her courtiers, all so beautiful, naked and slicked in sweat and sex. She rolled from Rhysand, moving to her knees to run a hand down Azriel’s back and shoulder as he pounded Cassian into the ground. She’d never seen him like this, so ferocious, so openly in control, shedding his spymaster composure for sheer, animal force. She wished to kiss them all. 

And she was not alone. The pairs parted, regardless of orgasm or mate bonds, and remoulded, reformed. Their scorching, shaking bodies changed and merged, then left and paired again. It dissolved into a dizzying haze - At one point Feyre found herself with her tongue lost deep inside of Mor, Azriel between her legs, Cassian fucking him, whilst Rhys so sweetly fingered them all. It was better than being drunk. It was better than the magic of Calanmai. It was nearly as spectacular as the cementing of the mating bond. 

They did not - could not - stop until the dawn of the true sun, marked by the dimming of the magical one glowing above them. With it came a sudden wash of exhaustion as the magic of the day seeped out of them, down into the rock beneath them. The temple quite literally glowed with magic, the alabaster twinkling with its own lifeforce, which pulsated, shone, then faded. 

“Oh,” Meredith’s voice called, breaking through the pants and stunned silence. “Oh, that really was wonderful. I’ve never seen a Valencia Mating quite so beautiful.” She stepped forward into the circle, a basin and washcloth in her hand. 

“They wash us now,” Azriel explained quietly, his hair stuck all over his forehead with sweat, his often dark, brooding eyes for once at peace, abated. 

He spoke the truth; the senior members of the Children, along with the youngest of girls, came forth with warm water and soap and scrubbed, cleaned, and scented each of them in turn. Lucien couldn’t even sit up, he’d been so thoroughly fucked by every one of them, Elain most of all - she’d seemed rather delighted to discover that when incensed, men of the Autumn Court become just as fiery as their powers. The Children cleansed him there on the floor. He did, however, sit bolt upright and crawl to the safety of Elain’s side when he spotted the elderly woman who’d pinched his ass giving him a saucy wink. 

“Happy Saint Valencia day,” Meredith said to them all, once the aftercare was done. They looked around at one another, a little shell-shocked at what had passed. Rhys smiled for them.

“Happy Saint Valencia day indeed.”


End file.
